


Twig tea

by lilmissmaya



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, moominmamma loves her snufkin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:20:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilmissmaya/pseuds/lilmissmaya
Summary: snufkin tries to leave the valley, only to head back to the house when he realizes his cold is something worse. everyone is asleep, maybe he could just slip in and sleep it off with moomin over the winter.or maybe not.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 159





	Twig tea

Snufkin was late heading out of the valley. 

Normally he left as soon as the first snowflakes fluttered down from the graying sky. But he and moomin had caught colds, and he’d spent an extra week fussing on moomin and being fussed on in turn. He still had a cough and his chest felt thick and full, but he finally had to head out. The snow would be worse in the mountains, and he didn’t want to get caught when the pass filled up with snow. 

Half way up, he was regretting this decision to hike. Surely he’d be fine in another day or so, he’d be fine when he got to warmer climes. But his head was pounding and he was so cold- he could barely feel the warmth from his coffee mug. The cold was settling in his chest, and the chilly damp weather wasn’t making him feel any better. 

He was stubborn, he liked, no, he needed this time to wander but- he knew when he was beat. Best option was to head back to the moomin house to recover in warmth and comfort while the family hibernated for winter. Moominmamma had already invited him to come back if he needed to. 

Maybe he could even curl up in moomin’s bed, hibernate with him for a while, he considered dreamily. Warm. he’d do anything to be warm right now. He’d wrapped his blanket around himself as sleet rained down on him, but it didn’t help. 

And breathing was a labor, he had to stop constantly to catch his breath, to wait out a coughing fit. It was a constant ache now, sore from the constant coughing fits that doubled him over and brought tears to his eyes. 

Yes, he was defeated. Best to retreat to safety. 

The days were getting shorter, and it was quite dark by the time he reached the steps of the moominhouse. The house itself was dark, the family tucked in for the long winter hibernation, and he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. It was always so full of life, always moomin there waiting for him, and it felt like… 

He shook off the melancholy, steadying himself on the door frame. The last mile or so had been hard, he felt like his head was detached from his body and it was hard to tell where all the parts of him were. He’d love nothing more than to lay flat, anywhere, on anything, just for a little while. But he needed to get the wet clothing off, warm up. Take medicine. Then he could crawl into moomin’s bed.

He stoked up the kitchen stove, then sat to try and take off his boots. They were wet and icy, and his fingers wouldn’t obey him. It didn’t help that he was having a hard time focusing, things wanted to blur, spin… he closed his eyes, gripping the side of the table to steady himself. He needed to get them off. His little knife made quick work of the wet knot, to get the icy boots and socks off. Carefully, holding on to the table, he managed to get his wet pants off too. His head felt worse, moving too fast made the room rock from side to side like he was on a boat. He needed to dry off now, something to drink. Was a fever making him so dizzy?

A pot of beans could sit on the back of the stove to cook, while he borrowed some of moominmamma’s herbs. Feverfew, willowbark. Something to loosen up his chest. It was hard to get in a decent breath, even now in the warmer kitchen. He wrapped up in a dry blanket, sat in front of the stove as he waited for the tea to brew. He wished…

He should… it sounded like water was trickling down the inside walls of the kitchen, water lapping at his feet. He was so cold, even in front of the stove. The tea, he needed to drink it and lower his fever-

He crumpled to the floor. 

Moominmamma hadn’t really been sleeping. Oh she dozed, lightly dreamed, but not the deep sleep of hibernation yet. 

She’d been having a bad feeling…

She drowsed against her husband’s back, hearing the kitchen door open and close. Footsteps, things moving. 

A thump. She was wide awake with that. 

She slipped on her robe and padded her way downstairs. It would not pay to panic, but something was wrong-

The kitchen was warm, snufkin’s pack and coat by the door, his boots under the table- snufkin’s crumpled figure next to them. He looked pale in the dim light, and she could hear his breathing rattling, even from the doorway. 

Carefully, it would not help to panic or rush just yet, she rolled him onto his back, patted his face. He burned under her paws. Snufkin mumbled, opening his eyes for a few moments before drifting back to where he’d been. 

She glanced at the window, the rain and ice turning to snow. It was a near thing then, him arriving at the house before the fever overtook him. If he had fallen out there- now, it wouldn’t help snufkin to get upset. That would be for later with some tea and cake. 

She wrapped him up in her robe. He was small, so young despite his worldliness. It was sometimes hard to remember he wasn't that much older than her own moomin. 

He mumbled again, eyes fluttering open as she wrapped him up. 

“How’d I-?” he said softly, looking around as if he didn’t recognize the kitchen. Granted, he’d never seen it before from the floor. 

“Let’s get you up and into bed, sweety.”

“‘M fine here.” he muttered, breaking into a coughing fit as she helped him sit up. His skin had taken on a waxy look under his tan, she could hear him struggle to get air into his lungs. It was like picking up a rag doll, he slumped against her shoulder. “Kitchen’s flooding…”

“The kitchen is fine, my little one.” she cooed, knowing he was too sick to protest the affection.

“Mamma?” pappa padded drowsily into the kitchen. “Is everything- oh snufkin! Here, let me take him.”

“Careful now.” she gave the boy over, trying to keep him wrapped up as he shivered and coughed. 

“That sounds worse than it did the day before.” he adjusted his grip and started carrying him upstairs. “And he’s cold!”

“The guest room, the sheets are clean, there’s firewood too. I’ll make up a hot water bottle and some medicine.”

“Good, good. Come my boy, shhh…” he talked quietly as he carried him out of the room. 

She smoothed out her fur and found her apron. He’d already made some tea for himself, she would make some stronger medicine, pull out the tinctures, more onion honey. Some sort of warm poultice to loosen up the congestion clogging his lungs. Warm, wet medicine. And a very strong pot of tea for herself. Alas, no biscuits or cake unless she made some. That was the problem with being the mother, there was no one else to make the biscuits or cake unless she did it. 

Maybe some scones after snufkin was comfortable. He’d appreciate the treat. 

Pappa had tucked snufkin in as she came up with tea and the hot water bottle, the stove warming up the room nicely. The boy was mumbling in between coughing fits, something about water. 

“Snufkin dear, wake up. You need to drink your tea.”

“Tea?” he managed to open up his eyes, needing help to sit up so he could drink. He was trying so very hard to hold his head up, but the fever was weakening him. 

“There we go, good enough for now.” he let him lay back down. Mamma smeared a sharp-smelling mix of cooked onion and vinegar on his chest, covering it with a flannel and the hot water bottle. He took a deep breath, coughed, and something sounded like it loosened. He settled, breathing slowing as he fell asleep. 

“Mamma you get some rest. I can sit with him for a while.” he’d already brought in a chair and a book. “Not the first time I’ve sat up with a sick child.”

“Thank you pappa, but I’m rather awake now. I might cook some soup for when he wakes up.”

“Soup sounds lovely.” he rubbed his soft muzzle against hers. 

Water was running down the walls again, snufkin could hear it. Drops splashed on his face, and he opened his eyes.

He knew that ceiling, he knew he knew it, but the name stayed maddeningly out of reach. He needed to tell someone about the water before it flooded the house, he needed to… 

A coughing fit wracked him, he couldn’t breathe. The more he coughed, the harder it was to get air in- someone sat him up, patted his back until the fit until a mouthful of mucus came up. Disgusting, but it was easier to get air in, just a little more. That someone wiped his face, put a cup to his lips with something sweet in it. He drank quickly, almost choking on it, but his throat was so dry. 

He was laid back down, the someone wiping sweat from his face again. He was so cold, his bones ached, where was he? He tried to tell them the house was flooding, but they made soft soothing noises. 

And he faded down in the water. 

The moominhouse. That’s where he was. 

What was he doing here? He needed to go before snow filled the pass. There were places to go and… and… his thoughts scattered. His chest burned, it was so hard to breathe. 

He could hear water lapping against the legs of the bed frame, trickling down the walls. Why wasn’t anyone stopping it? He needed to get up and let them know-

“Moomin?” he couldn’t be far if he was sleeping in the house. He tried to push himself up out of the bed, but he felt like a huge weight was pushing him down. Why was everything blurry, the bed rocking back and forth?

There was something important he needed to remember, was it about the water?

Someone, moomin? It had to be moomin, smoothed back his hair, murmured soothing words. Rest, he was told, lay down and rest. He tried to warn moomin about the water, they had to… they had to… the water was rising up over the edges of the bed, saturating the sheets. It was icy as it lapped his legs, he couldn’t move away from it as it rose up over his mouth and nose-

Pappa helped her sit him up, trying to help snufkin breathe better. His lips were faintly blue as he struggled to get air into his congested lungs. 

“Steam.” she finally said. “Boil a kettle and get a towel.” pappa nodded, rushing downstairs. She tried to comfort him, encouraging him to breathe in the long minutes before pappa returned with the steaming kettle. 

The hot moist air, trapped under the towel, helped loosen the congestion, helped cough it up enough he lost the blue. He was exhausted, struggling to drink some soup she gave him. His face was damp, hair matted with sweat to his scalp as he slumped in her arms. 

“Moomin?” he mumbled again, eyes glazed and unfocused. “The water…” 

“Are you thirsty, sweety?” she rubbed his back. “You need a toddy, with lots of honey.” 

“Don’t go. Cold…” he protested as she pulled away. 

“I’ll be right back.” with pappa’s help she made sure he was propped half-up with the pillows, the blanket pulled up to his chin. He couldn’t do much more than mumble a protest.

Her paws shook as she measured out the honey as the water boiled again, one for her, one for snufkin. Extra whiskey in hers, she… was sure they were going to lose snufkin there. Pneumonia could be so chancey, it could kill so quickly, and snufkin was like one of her own…

She sniffled, the tears she’d been holding back finally leaking out. It wasn’t just her, if snufkin died, poor moomin, he’d…

“Mamma…” pappa wrapped his arms around her from behind. “He’ll be okay, my pearl.”

“Moomin,” she sobbed, “Oh, he’d never get over it. He loves him so much, he’d never…”

“He’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. Once his fever breaks, he’ll get stronger, we’ll tuck him in with moomin and hibernate the rest of the winter.” 

She tried to wipe her face as he let go to make her hot drink. 

“Sit my dearest and eat a little.” he made hers a little strong, for her nerves. “There we go, no more tears. I’ll go give snufkin his drink.”

The moominhouse guest room. That’s where he was. When did he get back there? That was… good, he’d been feeling ill, hadn’t he? His cough had gotten worse and he’d turned around. 

He should wash up, he felt grimy. He must have sweated out the fever. 

But he couldn’t sit up, breaking out into a coughing fit as he tried to move. Everything ached, feeling weighed down. 

Someone by his bed moved, helping him sit up. He should open his eyes, that would help. 

“Momma?” she smoothed his hair out of his face. “What are you doing up?”

“I had a feeling you might need me. You’ve been very sick.”

“I feel terrible. I’m sorry you woke up for me.”

“Don’t be. You’re like one of my own. Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

“Thirsty.” he admitted. 

She made him another toddy, the warmth soothing the ache in his chest. She helped him into a chair and a quick sponge bath and fresh pajamas. Exhausting, but worth feeling cleaner. 

“Is moomin up?” he tried not to sound too hopeful. 

“He’s still asleep.”

“Okay.” it was good he was still asleep. Shouldn’t make him worried over something silly like a bad chest cold. 

“Once you’re feeling a bit better, you can stay in his room, if you want.”

“Might as well.” he said, half asleep. “Nowhere better I can be.”

“Of course.” she settled on the chair by his bed, taking his paw in hers. She would have an enormous scone with whipped cream tonight, a quiet celebration.

“... mamma?”

“Yes dear?” 

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” she leaned over and nuzzled his face and he accepted, even giving her a kiss on the cheek.

She watched over him while he slept. Just in case, as a mother would. 

Snufkin dreamed of water.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, this one has been sitting in my files for months. I probably could have made it longer, but I'm tired of it sitting there and I have at least three or four works in progress I poke on when I can.   
> please let me know, I love getting comments!


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